Journey
by orangeturquoise
Summary: Let us follow the young Sarmatians before they became legendary knights. To win friendship you have to learn acceptance and if you want to be the best you cannot spare yourself. See how bonds are forged, personalities evolve and are tested time and again.


_First, let it be told that the humble author, too, does not own the movie's rights or characters (pity, I know) and also doesn't know where to get them and if she would she would not have enough money to purchase them anyway. _

_Onwards._

* * *

_-Here belongeth a striking and profound title- (For help see author's note at bottom of page)_

_1__st__ Chapter: Arrival_

„Daddy! Daddy!!" the little girl squeaked and jumped up and down at her father's feet. "I can't see. Lift me up!" she demanded. They were standing on the fortress wall, and being only eight years old she was still too short to be able to see what was behind it. With a fond twinkle in his grey eyes he obliged the child and together they looked out on the open land south of Hadrian's Wall. There, in the distance, a train of riders arrived. A few wore the typical Roman legionary's uniform. The majority though was dressed in simple clothes.

"Are these the new knights, Daddy?" the little girl asked and strained her back to get a better view of the approaching group.

"Not yet, Raelyn," he replied in his usual calm manner, "But soon they will be." Saying this, his jaw set a bit more firmly and his eyes lost some spark as he thought about the fate that was to be bestowed upon these boys. "See if you can find Arthur anywhere. We all must greet them when they arrive." With that, the broad-necked man set down the child and sent her away. Raelyn dashed off as soon as her feet touched ground again. She knew Arthur had accompanied his mother along with her own and the other women when they had gone to do the laundry. They would have seen the visitors already, as the river section in question was on the way to the fort. Good thing she knew some paths that meant a person could get from one place to the other faster by foot than another could be on horseback using the official way. "Arthur!" she called out as soon as she saw his thin form haste along the same way she was using from the other end. The boy quickened his steps further only pausing for a few deep, ragged breaths when he reached her.

"Come, father says we must greet the new knights when they arrive. We must hurry!"

Casting a sideways glance uphill both saw that the horses were nearing the fort. The two children exchanged a look and took off running simultaneously.

"You know," Arthur forced out in between breaths, "I'm going to be their commander."

"That may well be," Raelyn retorted smugly, as if very certain of something the other child lacked but she herself possessed, "But I'm going to be their friend!"

Both arrived completely out of breath and just a few minutes before the heavy gates were hauled open, granting access to the next group of Sarmatian knights. They came to a skidding halt on both sides of Raelyn's father, almost doubling over after their run. Two strong hands gripped them by the collars and straightened out their posture. The centurion of the Roman legion stationed here stood next to Arthur. Besides that as good as all inhabitants of the fort had gathered on the main square to witness the arrival of the next set of Sarmatians to be delivered into their homestead. There were a dozen altogether and they looked rather pitiful. Dressed in rags after their long journey across the continent none of the boys was older than twelve. Not all had horses of their own. Some of the well-bred Sarmatian steeds carried two scrawny boys, some had had to walk. They looked around with the most utter mistrust and contempt, some hardly able to contain their fear of this strange place. The centurion gave a small nod to Raelyn's father as a sign, at which the imposing man stepped forward and addressed the boys in Sarmatian, the only language they knew fluently up until now. It wasn't merely a matter of practicality, the seasoned warrior knew all too well. This far from home they could use every little bit of encouragement and every glimmer of home and hope they could get.

"_Welcome to your post. My name is Bedivere and I am the last of the Sarmatian knights that served here before you." _

"What's he saying?" Arthur inquired and leaned in towards Raelyn.

"He's welcoming them and explaining who he is and what they will do here." The younger girl translated the foreign words. "They will be stationed here and train with him until they are old and strong enough to serve Rome. Now he introduces them to some people here. You must step forward!" she urged as she heard her father call Arthur's name and shoved the boy forward a bit.

"_Arthur's father was my commander here. He was a very good and respectable man, held in highest reverence by his men until after death. Arthur here will become your commander and you will have a worthy leader in him, I'm sure."_ Sir Bedivere proclaimed and let his hand rest on Arthur's skinny shoulder. The other boys eyed him with emotions ranging from mere curiosity over hostility to downright death wishes. Arthur involuntarily shrunk back under these harsh, accusing glares and for a moment he asked himself if anybody could ever befriend these boys, even if she was half of their blood.

"_Well, you must be tired and hungry. There will be enough time to show you around tomorrow." _Bedivere closed his explanations and motioned for them to dismount and for the stable hands to lead the horses away. Then he herded them towards the fort's main building and into its great hall. In the meantime the people dispersed again, having thoroughly regarded the boys for today. There'd be more of those novelties in the future. Raelyn and Arthur followed swiftly at Sir Bedivere's heels, themselves being closely followed by the centurion, the stable master and the women, their respective wives. Upon reaching the hall they found it bustling with activity as plates of food were being carried in and set down on the tables. The Sarmatians stood for a moment, awed by the room and the commotion, but soon enough hunger got the better of them and they attacked the food with a ferocity that would later be their enemies' nightmare. After a while of chomping and occasional belching Arthur tugged shyly at Raelyn's sleeve. "I want to ask them their names. Can you please help me?" he asked politely. She nodded in agreement and promptly took off into the direction of the nearest boy, a tall lad of maybe twelve with a desolate look in his eyes.

"_I am Raelyn and this is Arthur. What's your name?"_ she asked him in Sarmatian. He regarded her for a moment, the desolate expression temporarily replaced with a most puzzled one. _"You are Sarmatian as well?"_ he asked her incredulously. _"Aye,"_ she answered and motioned towards Bedivere who was at present engaged in deep conversation with the centurion, but waved at his daughter nonetheless. _"My Daddy."_

"_I see. My name is Dagonet."_ The boy replied and nodded in understanding, then Raelyn relayed the content of their conversation to Arthur.

The next boy was a silent type with scraggly hair roughly the colour of dry wood. He tensed as soon as they approached and kept his expression guarded.

"_I am Raelyn and this is Arthur. What's your name?"_ the girl asked again. Having witnessed their exchange with Dagonet and drawing his own conclusions he didn't ask anything and just introduced himself as Tristan clippedly. _"You are Rhoxolani, aren't you?"_ Raelyn asked curiously and pointed at the characteristic braids he wore in his hair, then at her father who sported the same exotic hairstyle along with his tribe's trademark tattoos.

The two children proceeded in this fashion across the room. Arthur mumbled the foreign names under his breath, determined to learn them as quickly as possible. They came across a seemingly impossible fat boy named Bors, though the fat would decline and make way for muscle in time; Percivale, Dinadan, Lamorak, Caradoc, Angravaine and Elyan before reaching the last three boys on the far side of the hall. Two had lighter hair and eyes while the other sported a mop of messy black curls and dark brown eyes. The two fairer boys were engaged in a little fight while the darker one sat and watched them gloomily.

"No, you can go over to your people. I won't be friends with a bloody Navari!" the smaller boy cried out harshly and turned away. The other's face fell instantly and he balled his little fists in a helpless gesture. The first boy had actually been so loud in his outcry that Raelyn's father felt compelled to come over to where they stood. He knelt down in front of the two boys with a grave expression on his face and looked at them severely. They shrunk a few inches under the older man's intense gaze.

"What is your name, lad?" he asked the younger and slightly shorter one, who had started the commotion.

"Galahad, son of Gaheris, of the tribe of the Sicares." He answered defiantly. Bedivere nodded in acknowledgment.

"Ah, I see. Now, Galahad, I know that at home Sicares and Navari are not on good terms, but neither of you are at home anymore. Soon you will find that if you want to live you must trust each end every one of the others as if he were your brother by blood. Here there is only one tribe. Here we are all Sarmatians."

It was dead silent when the knight ended. All eyes were on him and the two boys standing before him. Arthur – as well as the other Romans and Britons present – looked puzzled as they hadn't understood a word. "I'll tell you later." Raelyn muttered to him under her breath as he tugged at her sleeve again.

"What is your name?" Bedivere now addressed the other boy, who had unclenched his fists.

"Gawain."

"Now, Galahad, apologize to Gawain." Bedivere demanded in a tone that left no room for argument, not that Galahad had been in any shape to put up another struggle now. He looked thoroughly shaken and deserted, as if he'd like nothing better than to cry out at his misery and be comforted by his mother. That was probably when it hit them all, that home as they remembered it was lost and this bewildering place would be their dwelling for the best part of their lives. The heartbreak was almost palpable. Galahad bravely swallowed his tears and turned to Gawain.

"I am sorry, _brother_." He said sincerely and held out his hand. Gawain smiled and gripped it firmly.

"Good boys." Raelyn's father mumbled quietly before turning to his daughter with an affectionate smile, then stood and returned to his earlier conversation.

"My name is Raelyn and this-"

"-is Arthur." The dark, brooding lad cut in sombrely when she made to introduce themselves to the three. He eyed Arthur with an unreadable expression. "I am Lancelot."

"That is a pretty pendant, Lancelot." Raelyn said, pointing at the piece that was dangling from his neck.

"My sister gave it to me." He answered solemnly, almost as if despite himself.

"She must miss you very much." Raelyn offered sympathetically.

"Hrmph." He grunted and took another large bite from his meat, then turned away.

She was just about to give him a good thorough verbal lashing for such insolence when Arthur tugged at her sleeve again. Between gritted teeth she relayed everything he hadn't understood, then stomped off to her mother who took her home.

* * *

"Wake up, little darling." Her father's gravelly voice awakened her the next morning. Rubbing her eyes she sat up. After getting dressed and taking a small breakfast they were on their way to the training grounds, collecting Arthur and the Sarmatians on the way. Raelyn fell into step alongside Dagonet and Tristan, who eyed Arthur's scrawny form in front of them warily. They did not want to be here, none of them wanted for that matter, and the poor half-Roman boy at this moment was the very symbol of their oppressor. It would not be a light task to win their respect, that much was certain. It hurt Raelyn inwardly to have her friend judged so harshly. Arthur was as close as a brother to her, especially since Sir Bedivere acted as a surrogate father to the boy after the previous commander's death. Being of their people the boys took much more kindly to her and her father.

Upon reaching the muddy training grounds Bedivere had the boys stand in an orderly row. Raelyn scoffed when she realized they were _all_ taller than her.

"Well," her father began leisurely, "you'll need to learn Latin; and common Briton would also be of advantage. This is my daughter, Raelyn." He smiled at her fondly and ruffled her hair, "she knows all three languages fluently. You can ask her, but you will _not_ pester her unnecessarily, am I understood?"

Too stunned to speak, the boys just nodded, realization dawning upon them that there would be more to do than riding and fighting.

"Good," Bedivere grinned, "I'll see to it that you get some lessons for the language. But now show me what you know already!"

With that he handed out wooden swords like the knights here had used for decades to train. He paired them off and had them fight each other one pair after the other. Unfortunately the numbers weren't even, so Raelyn was paired with Percivale and Lancelot with Arthur. While Raelyn grinned cheekily at the taller boy, who didn't yet know what he was in for, Lancelot glowered at his partner without any intention of hiding his displeasure.

Gawain and Galahad were up first, wary of tainting their newfound friendship with a fight. All in all though the boys fare quite well and Bedivere was pleased at all the raw potential that lay before him. Percivale and Raelyn were up second to last, the older boy's scruples at having to fight the younger girl apparent. After some half-hearted blocking and much retreating on his side and many quick attacks on hers the older knight stepped in.

"Don't hold back, lad. If this were a real fight she would have slain you within moments! The Woads on the other side of the wall will not have mercy with you. They will have no scruples to cut you down where you stand, the women just as much as the men. You must not have qualms hitting a girl, for they will not have any issues hitting you. Again and with more fervour now!" he ordered. Raelyn wasted no time in attacking again, the tip of her sword aimed precisely at her opponent's neck. This time he blocked her blow in earnest and put all his strength into throwing her off him. Being older and taller of course he succeeded and sent the little girl stumbling to the ground. Had she not been so damn fast his next blow would have mashed her head into a pulp, had it been a real battle. Raelyn scrambled up while deflecting another blow. She turned swiftly, twirled around with her wooden blade always between her and her attacker, and suddenly stood behind Percivale. With a triumphant look she poked him in the back, just above the heart. Percivale froze, realizing that this would be the death blow coming from an enemy. The other Sarmatian boys looked quite awed at the display. Only Arthur shared his friend's and mentor's grin.

"Now, now, Sweetheart," Bedivere started in a scolding tone, which was defied by his most apparent amusement at his daughter besting a legend in the making, "Raelyn, I should have told you to go easy on them. After all they did not have the slightly unfair advantage of being trained by me from the beginning."

"I did go easy, Daddy." She pouted adorably, winking at Arthur, whose grin instantly grew wider as he tried not to break into a laughing fit.

"Ah, very well then, Arthur, Lancelot, you're up next."

Instantly the grin was wiped away from the boy's face as he took in his opponent's determined expression and dark look. Lancelot was about half a head taller than him and his body was tensed threateningly, like a panther about to jump his prey. Lancelot moved with a feline grace, his later lethality already showing as clearly as the sun on a bright day as had Tristan's earlier on. Arthur had quite some trouble at times parrying the blows and thrusts, but Lancelot also had his problems. He fell out of his rhythm on a regular basis, causing smooth movements to grow wayward and imprecise. Bedivere assessed the boys' fighting with a frown of deep concentration.

"That's enough for now, lads." He finally cut in, allowing the two panting boys to drop their swords and relax. Bedivere approached Lancelot with a quizzical look.

"Are you right-handed or left-handed, lad?" he asked. Indeed Lancelot had mostly used his left hand, but also let the sword change to the other side when he had fallen out of step.

"You're unbalanced." Bedivere analyzed and held out his muscled arm to the young boy. "Squeeze my hand with yours, one after the other and as hard as you can." He commanded. Lancelot complied, although with a bewildered expression on his face. The others were completely intrigued by the display.

"Hmm, just as I thought." The old knight whispered to himself before declaring: "Both your arms are equal in strength and skill."

"So what does that mean?" Lancelot asked defiantly, worries creeping into his voice. If there was something wrong with him, what would become of his dreams of being a great warrior? "Is that bad?"

"No. Not at all." Bedivere announced with satisfaction. "In fact I think I have just the right thing for you, lad." With that, he straightened himself up again and motioned for the lot to follow him to the chambers where the armour and weaponry of the Sarmatians was kept.

Things must be getting worse at home if the families couldn't afford to equip their sons with adequate weaponry anymore, Bedivere thought to himself. It must have been hard enough to supply horses, so none of the boys had arrived here with more than a few knives or daggers. It was an evidence of incapacity and made his heart ache that the legendary Sarmatian cavalry should be reduced to such a sorry state. Luckily over the years generations of Sarmatians had amassed a most impressive array of different weapons from their homeland. These were nowadays kept in a special armoury near the stables. The walls were lined with swords, axes, bows, hammers, staffs, spears ... – in short, everything a warrior's heart could desire – from ground to roof. The boys stood in awed silence, just taking in the deathly glinting metal.

"Now where are they?" Bedivere murmured to himself while scanning the walls for a certain item. He found it in a far corner and had to stretch to reach the neatly hung up scabbard, but managed to grab the weapons without real difficulty. With a proud smile he handed the sheathed blades to a stunned Lancelot. "Twin blades." He explained, "They belonged to my brother Sagramor. The Woads still squirm in horror when they hear his name."

Gulping dryly, Lancelot unsheathed the identical swords. All marvelled at the darkened blades, their sharpened sides reflecting what little sunlight there was in the room. Lancelot wielded them in his hands hesitantly, taking a few steps in doing so. They were still a bit too big for the boy, but there could be no doubt that once he grew into them one better not cross him. Instantly his movements had gained security. It was as if a secret flow of energy had been unblocked, his testing swings bearing prophesy to later skill.

Bedivere looked upon the boy with a fond smile playing around his lips. "Perfect." He stated with satisfaction, "Now let's get the rest of you equipped."

The boys actually squealed at this announcement. The older knight had paid close attention to the boys' natural way of movement earlier and now based his choice of weapons on what he had observed. Tristan received a curved blade with intricate etchings, Galahad a short and sturdy one; Percivale got two blades as well, one as long as a grown man's leg and the other as short as a forearm. The tall and fair Elyan was issued a long staff with cunning blades worked into both ends. The more slender and flexible boys Lamorak and Dinadan also received swords to fit them and the heavier set boys – Agravaine, Bors, Dagonet and Gawain – were handed unique and vicious looking battle axes. Needless to say all the boys beamed with pleasure after this, a bit of their homesickness already shoved away to the back of their minds to make way for dreams of adventure and glory.

"So much for short range weaponry." Bedivere stated with a satisfied smirk. "Tomorrow we'll see to archery and horsemanship. And now off you go. Arthur and Raelyn will show you to the tavern. You all must be hungry, children."

* * *

_Ah, bad me! Instead of updating that other stuff I keep publishing new beginnings. You don't even want to know about all the stuff that's been sitting on my hard drive for ages! Anyway, this ficlet will follow the knights mostly in the time preceding the actual events in the movie, except of course for the opening sequence which is used for the start here. So basically, it takes place between them arriving and the main movie events, at least as far as the as of yet horribly unrefined plan goes. Reviews can help to greatly remedy that, you know? Not only do they initially make the brain juices flow faster and the fingers type more, they can be inspiration for entire scenes, chapters even! It has all been there before. Anyway, I'd just like to hear your thoughts on this. I just kind of had some ideas and went along with it. You tell me whether it's working or not. You could have a direct impact on the storyline! (Especially since it's pretty much open to any good suggestions at this point) _

_The names used are mainly from the list of knights of the round table after Malory (Le Morte D'Arthur) which can be found o Wikipedia. other than those given in the film I simply took the ones I thought fit in nicest. Rhoxolani, Aorsi, Navari and others that will probably appear later in the story are actual Sarmatian tribes, also found listed on the all-knowing Wiki. Again the personal favourite principle prevailed. I don't claim historical accuracy, but I'll at least try to make it all appear sensible. _

And now keep hittin' that review button! I actually won't update until I have received a certain number of reviews, and to motivate you even further I won't tell you how many I want yet. Hint: For starters it will be less than 100. How much less? Comment and find out.

_Also, any title suggestions would be hugely welcome. I am notoriously bad at coming up with decent titles and for this one I just have no idea whatsoever!_

_Alsoalso, if this story wasn't quite up your alley (which can always happen, we're all individuals after all) maybe have a look at my profile and the other stuff that I have been brave enough to publish. The review rule applies there as well, just so you know. _


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